


Mollywatch: Widow's Snare

by Laura_Laplace



Series: Mollywatch [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, F/F, Mind Control, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Laplace/pseuds/Laura_Laplace
Summary: When Overwatch's newest recruit gets caught in Widowmaker's trap alongside Tracer, she discovers a relationship between the two women far more complex than she could have thought possible...





	

**Author's Note:**

> A request for tumblr's own mirthfulmollywhop, featuring her OC.

‘Oh, I feel like we’re gonna be racing on this one, Lena…’

‘First of all, it’s Tracer in the field, love,’ there was not a trace of criticism in the woman’s voice, but Molly couldn’t help but look away, ashamed at having overlooked something so basic. ‘Secondly… _yeah._ ’

And then, she was off, an azure blur streaking through the streets in pursuit after the faint signs of their quarry in the distance, the occasional slipped roof tile or echoing footstep resounding through the nighttime streets. Molly recovered quickly and clicked her heels together, eating up the distance between them like it was nothing, but it was hard to navigate through the tangled, narrow snarls of city roads, and just as Tracer soon elevated herself to the rooftops to better continue the chase, Molly used the first available ramp and a judicious application of momentum to fling herself skyward too, landing in a roll atop the smoothest surface she could aim for without losing any speed. The two of them flew across the top of the city. 

‘Widow’s gettin’ away, Havoc!’ Tracer’s voice could be heard, faintly, in echoes that bounced chaotically off of multiple surfaces at many distances at once. ‘’Course it’s a race, we’re out to get her fast as possible, girl! Woo!’ 

The blue streak took momentarily to the air, a graceful, curving arc of time-dilated light soaring across the gap of a main road to land, still in motion, on the opposite roof. Though Molly didn’t think she could replicate the feat, she covered the gap in her own way, hurling herself into the void momentarily before running as far as she could along a nearby wall, launching herself at the end over the rest of the distance. Without realizing it, the newbie Overwatch agent grinned, a thrill of adrenaline turning her entire body light and charged with energy as she leapt and spun through the air, committing to actions that, under normal circumstances, would have been impossible for her. Here, she truly was a hero. 

That exhilaration caused Molly to try her hardest to keep pace with Tracer, pushing her speed boost to its limits in order to catch the flickering, bouncing silhouette ahead of her, until the pair ran side by side. For a moment, she could see Tracer’s eyes lock with her own, pride with a smile showing in her expression, before the senior agent pushed herself harder, drawing further ahead of Molly. In turn, Pretty Havoc tightened her legs and increased her speed, catching up; Widowmaker was visible in the distance, a distance that was very quickly shortening beneath their feet, but the Overwatch duo remained essentially absorbed in one another, the impromptu competition taking up the lion’s share of their attention as the sniper ducked around a corner and the two mobile blurs raced after her. 

Tracer giggled as she rounded the corner first, but the sound was cut short, the next few seconds going by in slow motion as Molly joined her. 

Barely a second had separated them. Molly heard the twang of a trip-wire releasing even as she saw the trap being triggered. Pliable cables curved and vibrated through the air, too many to count, to properly see before they closed around the pair. They stung the skin, as the first wires forcibly bent the back of Molly’s knees, sending her falling backwards into yet more of the trap, taut cables pushing her aloft, bringing her and Tracer into instant, close contact, face to face as the binding blurs of the trap came together. It was all over in the space of a few moments. 

Mooring cables hung from the ceiling, taut with new weight, and others buried themselves into the floor, keeping Molly and Tracer secure in place. The trap had, perhaps, been meant for only one person, but regardless, it had drawn the two agents together and bound them, bodies pressed together, suspended off the floor at about waist-height. Sheer tightness kept them immobile in the beginning, their struggles rendered moot by the strong, metal cables, but as confused, disoriented moments passed, slithering robotic wires moved over Molly’s body- presumably Tracer’s too- and took to her wrists, dragging them up behind her back and locking there, so that she couldn’t even pull at the ropes that held them in place. 

From a hundred miles an hour to zero. From in pursuit to captive. From success to failure, in the span of half a minute at best. 

‘Well,’ Tracer sighed, her pistols dropping from her hands to the floor with a clatter. ‘Wish I could say it’s the first time I’ve been in this position.’ 

‘First time it’s been a trap, for me,’ Molly replied, almost directly into Tracer’s ear due to positioning. ‘I mean, obviously I’ve done the rope thing before…’

‘Heh, yeah,’ Lena seemed to blush, but Molly was content to put it down to a trick of the light, more concerned with getting them out of the trap they had fallen into. Making herself as small as possible, Molly wriggled and squirmed, attempting to slide herself out of ropes that seemed to tighten and constrict to match however compact she managed to make herself. 

‘Don’t bother, ma chatte,’ the words seemed to insinuate themselves coldly through the air, chilled and controlled and accented in French, paired with the soft clack of heels on the floor. ‘You won’t be getting free from my web.’

‘Hi Widow!’ Tracer seemed oddly unperturbed about being bound, alone in a room with an enemy combatant and their firearm, swinging herself laterally so that the entire trap bobbed from side to side, almost playfully. ‘Rope traps again, eh?’

‘Oh cool, it’s the spiderbitch!’ Molly charged her own response with sarcasm, as if to counteract her partner’s jollity. ‘You know, you have a sniper rifle, you don’t actually need to gloat before you kill us.’

‘What? She’s not gonna kill us!’ That blush had not left Tracer’s cheeks, and in fact it appeared to have only grown brighter in the intervening moments, the constant smile the girl wore turning strained, slightly… embarrassed? ‘Right, Amelie? That’s never been what all this is about.’

‘True, true,’ Widowmaker’s face appeared between the bound pair, as the woman herself stepped around to one side of them. Molly could feel a hand on her ass, ‘why go through all the trouble of killing you? There’s so many more interesting uses you could be put to. Lena knows, don’t you, ma chere?’

‘W-well, yeah, but-’ This was the first time Molly could recall that she had ever heard the other woman stutter, her flowing, continuous confidence seemingly so unbreakable before. 

‘But besides, it would be such a waste to have you both here and not… take advantage? I quite agree,’ Widow said, and Molly became quite sure that there was, indeed, a hand on her ass. ‘After all, I’ve seen your videos, girl. Oh yes, Talon prepares dossiers on all enemy combatants, very comprehensive ones, in fact. You might say that, as an organization? We’re big fans…’

‘Both of us?’ Tracer gasped, and there was disbelief in her tone, mixed with a vague, low hurt that Molly found strange, yet went unexplained. ‘You’re seriously doing this?’

‘I am,’ the sniper purred, as Molly became all the more acquainted with the hand. On her ass. 

It squeezed, fingers playing strange patterns over the fabric of her suit. Molly found herself biting her lip, but her mind’s eye supplied her with images of the other use those fingers had been put to, the minute adjustments of rifle barrels and the pulling of triggers leading to the end of life, human and Omnic alike. Just as her namesake, the Widowmaker was dangerous, not merely alluring. 

‘I’ve brought all my toys, Lena,’ the French woman continued, and Molly heard the sound of a duffel bag hitting the floor, as if to punctuate that. ‘You remember, don’t you? All your favorites…’

Ah. So this wasn’t the first time that this had happened. It was, of course, common knowledge just how often Overwatch agents had to match themselves against Widowmaker, former ally turned repeated enemy, and Tracer in particular had fought against the sniper again and again, often alone, often by surprise, as the deadly Frenchwoman just seemed to show up wherever Tracer was.

… As if the one were following the other…

‘Hush now, Lena,’ Widowmaker pressed one gloved finger to Tracer’s lips, and it was only then that Molly realized that her fellow agent had been stammering the entire time that she herself had been deep in thought. But that cold French accent could pull anyone out of their own head, ‘turn your face, girl. It’s time for the kiss…’

Gently but firmly turning Lena’s head, Widowmaker bent down slightly to her level and pressed her lips to her captive’s, Tracer’s answering grunt too soft and inflected to be shocked; rather, it bespoke growing arousal and, beyond that, surrender. They broke apart relatively quickly- at least compared to the sorts of kisses Molly enjoyed- but when they did, Tracer broke away panting, her face now completely flushed. 

Below, Molly felt Lena’s hips move against her, shifting restlessly and persistently in answer to the kiss. Their captor turned collected eyes to Molly herself. 

‘Your turn,’ she said and, before Molly could respond, covered her mouth with her own, the pressure of Amelie’s cold lips like a shot of adrenaline right to Molly’s brain. She gasped into Widow’s mouth, but there was no air there to breathe back in, just the spider’s kiss, just the azure, addictive taste, the feeling of warm lightning spreading slowly under Molly’s skin, the pulsing of a sudden arousal, like the sniper had just flicked a switch and turned her on. The Overwatch agent’s clit throbbed, and she didn’t know why. 

‘Just a nice little warm-up chemical,’ Widowmaker whispered as she pulled away, the sensation of her breath playing across Molly’s lips making her heedlessly push herself forward, as if to recapture the sensation of kissing the killer, more of whatever poison that first little love bite had delivered unto her. ‘Keeps you sweet and amenable, just like I like… but it’s not dangerous. Lena knows, she’s had plenty of it. I suppose I’ve forgotten how intense the first dose can be, my eager little pet.’

Gloved fingers wove their way through Molly’s hair and tugged backward, suddenly, forcing her head up, away from Tracer’s, Widowmaker’s visage filling her vision. ‘But you don’t do anything outside of what I tell you to, ma chatte. I only keep playing with obedient toys, am I understood?’ 

‘Yes!’ She gasped, the sudden stinging in her scalp erasing everything but a desire to be rid of it. She was released quickly enough, but in that moment other things began to move within the mass of ropes that kept her bound to Tracer, leaving Molly without a second to truly recover. The two bound women began to separate, the ropes surrounding them lengthening with a surprising elasticity, as the ones girding Molly’s body kept her in place, suspended above Tracer within a network of crisscrossing strands, her arms still bound behind her back by unyielding- and unseen- cuffs. Molly wondered, for a moment, just how versatile and controllable their bonds were… and then she wondered where she could get some of her own. 

‘Sorry, love,’ Tracer grimaced apologetically from below, but Molly didn’t miss the restless squirming of her body, nor the fluttering unsteadiness of her breath. Whatever had coated Widow’s lips was affecting the Brit just as it was affecting Molly herself. It turned her words slow and panting, spoken from lips that were parted and wanting, ‘Didn’t… didn’t t-think she would do this to b-both of usss…’

Tracer trailed off with a hiss, her thighs squeezing tightly together, absently rubbing friction between them, and in that moment, the only thing Molly wished to do was kiss her fellow captive, desperately. Alas, they were too far apart now, the opportunity squandered in dealing with Widowmaker, who had now positioned herself directly in front of the bound women, where it was most difficult to see her without craning one’s neck. 

‘Hush now, Lena,’ the sniper ruffled Tracer’s hair, stepping closer in the process. ‘No talking during the festivities, you know this. Not unless it’s something I like to hear…’

Pulling at the skintight suit that she wore, Widow revealed yet more alluring blue skin, peeling the thing with quick, businesslike movements off of herself, until she stood naked before the two Overwatch agents, seemingly unmoved, as though there was no difference. Regarding her captives with guarded eyes, the sniper crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

‘Are you two going to be good for me?’ She said, her tone suggesting that the possibility that they might be bad was so remote as to be of no consequence. ‘You’re smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds you, yes? Or rather, the hand that binds?’

‘Yes,’ Tracer said, in an odd combination of subdued and aroused, flicking her guilty gaze occasionally to Molly. ‘Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be good…’

‘And I presume I can train you,’ Widow slid her fingers along the underside of Molly’s chin, the soft and sensuous touch causing her to almost melt. She whimpered, her pussy pulsing, as Widow continued, ‘There’s plenty of video evidence of how obedient you can be when given the right stimulus, ma chatte.’

Delicately, as though perching herself on the most fragile of seats, Widow slipped herself forward until she straddled Tracer’s head and, slowly, lowered her bared pussy onto her captive’s face. The sound that Tracer made in response was unmistakably a moan, and when she looked down, Molly could see the muscles in the girl’s neck tensing and relaxing, what was visible of her jaw just slightly in motion. Soft, wet noises could be heard almost immediately. 

‘You see?’ Widowmaker purred, taking hold of Molly’s hair once again. ‘She does what she’s supposed to without complaint. Let’s see if you can do likewise.’

Dragging the bound woman forward, Widow arched her back and puffed out her chest, displaying the generous breasts that she was, slowly, pulling Molly toward. The newbie Overwatch agent blushed, but she felt her heart skip a beat nonetheless, at the sight of pristine, naked flesh before her, the Widow’s kiss still working its way through her body, poisoning everything with unbidden thoughts of sex, her mind turned inexorably to prurient ends, just as the sniper had desired. Falling so easily into a trap… it ground against Molly’s pride, but not so much as to cause her to resist the effects of whatever it was she had been drugged with. 

But that was the- oh, god- the rub, wasn’t it? When something could make you want things, whether you wanted a thing or not became irrelevant. The question became whether or not you would want it under normal circumstances, purged of the drug and free with your choices, and in this case… would Molly have desired this, the Talon sniper naked and, apparently, perfectly willing to toy with her? 

She couldn’t deny that it had been a part of her plan for her blog from the beginning, just as snaring Reaper had been. The only thing wrong was that she didn’t have her camera…

Well, that and Tracer, bound up here with her. She didn’t want this for her. The guilt in her eyes had been too evident; Lena thought she was failing Molly now. 

The taint of that might have meant something, before the kiss. Now it was just another factor that Molly was going to have to work through later, once she was back to herself and, indeed, if they could find some way out of this and away from Widowmaker. There was, obviously, a possibility that they didn’t do that, that Molly and Lena would fail and fall here, though that seemed a distant prospect, given Tracer’s familiarity with the predicament. Nobody walked away from lethal situations so often that they became familiar with them, at least, not in Overwatch’s line of work. 

But there was always the Widow, and her kiss, to addle Molly’s brain and drag her away from concerns that really should have been more pressing. Soft skin, cool to the touch, brushed against Molly’s cheek, as she was drawn in toward the sniper’s ample bosom, expectation glimmering above, in the spider’s eyes. There were so many other things more important than this, but in the moment, her head swimming, Molly’s thoughts were consumed, a longing to touch her captor more, to reach out and… please her, filling her body from head to toe. Pushing her thighs together, unseen within the tangle of ropes, Molly attempted to grind herself against the trap that had ensnared her, find some pleasure for herself, some relief that might, just possibly, bring her back in control of herself. 

That possibility didn’t stop her, however, from extending her tongue and running it in a circle around one of Widowmaker’s cold, blue nipples. 

Above, the spider cooed. 

Molly stopped herself right away, conflicted yet also surprised at just how much Widowmaker’s sex noises aroused her. But her divided loyalties were quickly washed away by the drug, aided in no small part by the obvious sounds of Tracer engaged in oral sex, her face still obscured by Widow’s hips, yet the sound of a tongue in action unmistakable. Molly had eaten out enough girls to know what that sounded like, and personally enjoyed the act enough to know what that sounded like, and no matter the context, her fellow agent’s arousal was undeniable. Widowmaker’s thighs tensed and relaxed, seemingly in sync with Lena’s oral ministrations, leaving Molly with no choice but to accept it: she was in this now, and the possibility of not enjoying it, of sticking to her principles regarding consent, was not just remote, but nonexistent. 

Panting helplessly, she continued kissing her way toward the interior of Widow’s cleavage. 

Widowmaker had practically seated herself on Tracer’s face by now, freely rocking her hips against the girl’s mouth, and she held Molly to her with the same impetuous expectation that she would do whatever was demanded of her, using the two bound women for her own pleasure and heedless of any discomfort it might cause them. For her part, Molly’s neck quickly began to ache from the strain of craning it to reach her captor’s chest, tongue and teeth and lips employed judiciously on the sensitive skin to be found there, but with Widow’s hands gripping tightly at the back of her head- tighter the more Molly pleased her, in a reciprocal cycle of pain and pleasure- there was nothing she could do but give in to the sweet sensation of pleasing the one who had drugged her. 

The whole rig they three were suspended on began to swing, slowly, back and forth, as the two bound women continued to absently move their hips, fucking themselves against anything they could get close to, despite how woefully inadequate the trap was for that purpose. The ropes, even where they actually made contact between the Overwatch agents’ legs, were thin and supple, not enough to apply anywhere near enough pressure, and the angle they were positioned at, near parallel to the floor, made wrangling their bonds nearer to clits, to pussies, to anything that might give some decent stimulation, nearly impossible. 

Yet still they tried, desperation sinking deeper into the two of them by the moment, stoked to tremendous, frustrated jealousy by the contrast it made with Widowmaker’s obvious, increasing pleasure. And the trap moved along with them, like some perverse and private sex swing, pendulous with the momentum of ecstasy and denial both, the juncture points with the ceiling creaking and groaning, with the sound lost below the sinuous and cold sounds of the spider in bliss, hollow moans and gasps that ran cold and hot simultaneously echoing down the darkened halls on this lonely, silent night. 

Widow came exactly as a spider might, sharp fingernails digging into Molly’s scalp and forcing her mouth tightly down onto her breast, as strong, toned thighs clenched at Tracer’s neck, holding the Brit as a pinioned and helpless oral toy beneath her, deprived of breath but obligated to continue licking, stoking the spider to greater heights of pleasure. Long, cold limbs contracted downward toward a central point of ecstasy, dragging her two captives, entwined so tightly in her web that nothing else mattered but her climax, in with her. Rocking back and forth, her heels scraping roughly against the floor, Amelie came. 

Her breath shuddered in her throat as she came down, limbs slowly relaxing, releasing the captives from the grips of her orgasm. Widowmaker stepped away, running absent hands up sensitive skin, and Tracer gasped her first breath in… Molly didn’t even know how long. The Brit’s neck slackened, sticky lips opened to draw in breath after breath, blue eyes wide and brown hair mussed. The Widow’s liquid arousal shone on her chin, and Molly watched her tongue extend, without thinking, to lick it from the corner of her mouth, clearly savoring the taste of it, lost to the arousal flooding her body. 

Molly couldn’t blame her. 

‘Alright, mes beautes,’ Widowmaker said, her voice somehow not betraying what had just happened between them, steady and calm as it always had been. ‘You both are willing to play, which is so very nice, particularly since your Overwatch comrades haven’t noticed us yet… so I’m going to let you down from my web, little girls, and then the real fun can begin.’

She bent at the waist, cold eyes boring into Tracer’s as Widow came face to face with the bound Brit, kissing her lightly upon the lips. 

‘Isn’t that right, ma cherie?’

_To be continued…_


End file.
